


The Diary of Jane

by the10amongstthese3s



Category: Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: Comfort, Dyslexia, Fluff, Jane deserves the world, One Shot, dyslexia gang gang, parr would happily give it to her, yes I'm projecting again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:41:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24934675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the10amongstthese3s/pseuds/the10amongstthese3s
Summary: When Catherine Parr discovers that Jane Seymour is hiding a big secret, it's up to her to help support the woman in her journey to literacy.
Comments: 23
Kudos: 79





	The Diary of Jane

People hide their flaws. It’s easier than accepting them, after all.

A lot of people hide their physical flaws. Covering scars and blemishes with makeup, refusing to bare their teeth whilst smiling for photos, shaving darker body hair as if it’s some filthy secret that deserves to be hidden in shame. Instead of celebrating their differences, they cringe at the thought of not fitting in. 

For others, that flaw may be something less obvious. Neurodivergent people toning down their knowledge on certain subjects deemed ‘nerdy’ or ‘uncool’, trying their best to not seem overly excited about the latest episode of their favourite show or update from a beloved author.

Jane Seymour’s so-called ‘flaw’ was nothing like that.

The third queen’s great shame came in the form of her education. More specifically, the lack thereof. 

Unbeknownst to the other queens, Jane Seymour never learned to read or write as a child. Why would she? From an early age, her parents knew she’d be nothing more than a maid and a mother. All she needed to know was how to cook and clean. How to act ladylike in the presence of a gentleman in the hopes of being courted by a nobleman and starting a family. 

Even after she married a king and gave her family the hope that she could someday be more than a simple pretty servant, the woman was nothing more than an incubator to the king’s heir. Soon dead and forgotten, just as was always expected of her.

Once she found herself reincarnated in the new world, Jane knew she had a second chance at life. The chance to truly make her mark. Still though, every time she glanced at a menu in a restaurant or a map in the tube station, the woman was reminded of who she was. Of where she belonged.

So, she hid it.

Instead of asking for help, Jane spent her days glaring at children’s books, cursing under her breath as she tried with all her might to understand the complete gibberish before her. It all seemed so foreign. 

Part of the woman felt a deep sense of jealousy burning inside when she saw Anne reading books in French, and Parr reading in Italian. It was as if they were intentionally mocking her. Even Kit was picking up French from the two and yet Jane still couldn’t even master English.

_How was that fair?_

If it wasn’t so embarrassing, Jane may have asked Parr for help. She always was patient and kind when she taught Kit. To be an illiterate adult asking for help with such simple things was far too shameful for Jane, though. The last thing she needed after being remembered for nothing more than delivering a son, was to be seen as the dumb member of the group. The member so intimidated by the concept of writing that she’d flee the room anytime a pen found its way towards her, always thinking of some excuse for not signing birthday cards and gift tags.

In all honesty, Jane would have probably kept her secret hidden away from the world until the day she died if she could have. If only it hadn’t have been for the stupid phone call. The call that outed her to her family.

It was Aragon who had answered the call, looking rather excited by the polite conversation. From what they could figure out, it seemed a rather well-known historian wanted to meet with them for an interview. It was still early days, so interviews were a rather new thing to the group. Still an exciting prospect. 

Everything was going so well until Aragon put a hand over the microphone and whispered for Jane to take some notes on specific details.

Immediately, the colour drained from the woman’s face. Her worst nightmare was coming true and she could do nothing but stare in horror at the pen and pad on the coffee table directly in front of her. 

So close, yet somehow just out of reach.

Noticing the woman’s hesitation, Parr quickly jumped at the pad before Aragon had a chance to get annoyed. She didn’t say anything about the tears in Jane’s eyes, nor the crimson blush that decorated her cheeks like a shameful rash. The writer simply gave Jane a small, reassuring smile and got to work scribing Aragon’s notes. 

Jane snuck off soon after that, opting to cry in her room rather than face the others. It wouldn’t be the first time and it probably wouldn’t be the last, either.

When the knock sounded at her door a little while later, Jane felt her heart stop. Had the group figured her out? Where they there to laugh at her and tease her for her undoubtable stupidity? They were her family, sure, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t be disgusted by the woman’s untrained mind. She was the mum of the group. The mature one that they could all rely on. How could they ever see her that way again knowing she had the reading comprehension of a doorknob?

An even worse thought crossed her mind as she watched the door slowly creak open.

Would they kick her form the group?

To her surprise - and relief - though, only Parr slipped inside the room. She had a sympathetic smile on her face that would have been reassuring if it didn’t feel so pitying. Of course the genius of the group would look down on her now. 

They all would.

It wasn’t until Parr was sat on the bed beside her, an arm wrapped tightly around her waist, that Jane felt herself crumble. In moments, she was sobbing into her friend’s shoulder, no longer caring how childish she may appear. 

For a while, the two sat in silence, Parr stroking gentle fingers through the blonde’s hair just as the woman had done for her and the others so many times before. For once, Jane was the one receiving the much-needed comfort, not the one giving it. That was a nice change. One that didn’t occur often enough. It honestly surprised Jane how willing she was to give in to the soothing feeling of fingertips drawing patterns across her spine. It wasn’t often that the woman found herself so utterly relaxed.

By the time Parr spoke up, Jane’s sobs had ceased completely. She shouldn’t have been so surprised by the girl’s admission that she understood what Jane was hiding, nor by her sweet offer of tutelage.

No matter how reluctant she was to admit it, Jane needed help.

So the next day, after a long night of cuddling in bed watching Jane’s favourite rom-coms and surprisingly few questions from Parr, they began their first lesson at the local library. Then came the second, and the third, and soon enough the tenth. Still though, Jane struggled. A part of her had honestly believed that a single session with Parr would have had her relaying scripture as if it were the alphabet. 

However disheartening it may have been, Jane knew she had to push on. She couldn’t give up.

Still though, as the days passed, Jane felt herself growing colder to the idea of their sessions. What had started as something so positive had quickly turned to torture. Maybe it was true, after all. Jane really was just a dumb servant, fit for nothing but baring children.

Even that she didn’t get right, passing before she ever got the chance to hold her son.

How useless can one woman be?

It wasn’t until Parr requested permission to set up a meeting with someone that Jane realised there may have been something more to the reason behind her struggle. Maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t dumb. Perhaps it was something more than simple stupidity.

When you hear the word ‘disability’ you usually think of someone in a wheelchair or perhaps a blind or deaf person. Putting the word ‘learning’ in front of it opened up a whole new world to Jane Seymour. She’d heard the term in passing, but never thought much of it. Now that it was being applied to her though, it felt like an answer.

‘Dysgraphia and dyslexia.’

That diagnosis truly was a blessing in disguise. The sense of relief that washed over Jane as the doctor explained the issues was like nothing she’d ever felt before. She wasn’t any less intelligent than the other queens, she simply needed a little extra assistance.

For the first time in a long time, Jane felt positive about learning. She felt as if she could do anything. She wasn’t going to let some little diagnosis get in her way.

She could do this.

She _would_ do this.

With new learning tools and a sense of confidence she’d never felt before, Jane gradually began to improve. Finally, she was beginning to feel comfortable asking for help. More importantly, she wasn’t scolding herself for struggling. Now that she understood why she struggled so much, that urge to punish herself for being ‘dumb’ faded away, only making an appearance on her darkest days.

For the first time in her life, Jane Seymour didn’t feel dumb. In fact, she felt like the smartest woman in that house. Perhaps the others could all write in other languages and read novel after novel as if they were simple children’s books, but her small achievements seemed far mightier. Parr made sure to remind her of that too, constantly praising her for even the smallest of accomplishments. 

She would never be the next Shakespeare. She may never have even been a strong enough reader to study one of his works. Jane was learning though, slowly and surely, to the best of her ability. 

That was all that mattered.

For once in her life, the woman was celebrating her education rather than hiding it. She was happy to boast about her progression to the others and practise at home where they may have heard her struggle. It felt as if a weight had finally been lifted from her shoulders after centuries of torture.

Thanks to Catherine Parr, Jane finally knew her worth. She was so much more than she’d ever believed. That’s why, whilst shopping one day, Jane decided to buy a ‘thank you’ card for the woman. A simple card with an adorable little cartoon bunny on the front. 

There was still a long road ahead of her but, for now, Jane felt pride surge forth as she wrote something she never imagined she would be able to do in that card. There, at the bottom of the card, under the printed thank you message, laid a single messy word that meant more in that moment than it ever had done before.

‘Jane.’

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, my loves!! 💚 Sorry I haven't been posting as much recently. I hope you like this one! When I first joined the fandom I remember seeing a lot of people headcanoning that Jane would struggle to read and write so I thought I may as well project onto her even more! (My notes for this fic were ironically illegible because dyslexia be like that. Thank the gods for spell check!) 😂🦆


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